


Final Boss' Sick Quest

by umathe



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Choi Jongho-centric, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jung Wooyoung-centric, One Shot, POV Multiple, Platonic Cuddling, Sick Character, Sickfic, Sleepy Cuddles, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23868625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umathe/pseuds/umathe
Summary: Sometimes, Jongho just really wants a hug. Thank goodness Wooyoung can provide all that and much more.
Relationships: Choi Jongho & Everyone, Choi Jongho & Jung Wooyoung
Comments: 18
Kudos: 171
Collections: Wooyoung Love Central Fic Fest 2019





	Final Boss' Sick Quest

_“A friend is someone who gives you total freedom to be yourself-and especially to feel, or not feel. Whatever you happen to be feeling at any moment is fine with them. That's what real love amounts to - letting a person be what he really is.”_

**\- Jim Morrison**

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


Jongho is grateful that the last thing affected by an impending cold is his voice. He can hide full-body aches with impromptu stretches and blame stuffy noses on his fungus spore allergies. It helps that he can slip some ibuprofen into his system without being hovered by worried members and skeptical staff since it’s normal for him to do so around this season. 

He just has to avoid being touched because though it’s slight, he is running a mild fever. It shouldn’t be difficult. He might be the youngest, but he certainly doesn’t act like it; thereby often disregarded as members’ first choice to give hugs and kisses. His violent reaction towards the latter certainly attributes to the avoidance. They don’t want to be smacked, after all (trainee Jongho was quite ruthless in making his dislike known). But he unintentionally caused them to shy away from hugs as well. He’s only got himself to blame for that, but that’s a concern for later. 

He’s (slightly, practically not) sick and does not want any physical contact from anyone today. 

He doesn’t. 

Really.

Jongho glances at the van’s rear-view mirror. From his spot in the passenger seat, he can make out Wooyoung snuggled up into San’s side, arms wrapped around the older’s, and cheek pressed into the bony shoulder. He knows San’s muscular body isn’t particularly comfy being leaned on like that, but he closes his eyes and imagines being in Wooyoung’s position. Then San’s. Somehow, this calms him just enough to doze off the rest of the ride to their scheduled shooting. 

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


The PD raises a sign, asking: “ATEEZ is…?”

Wooyoung’s loud _‘what are we’_ startles Jongho to attention. The Newsade shooting is reaching its third hour, and the random and freeze tag dancing segments at the beginning drained a lot of his energy. He had unconsciously been counting down the telepathy questions like sheep to ready his immediate follow-up nap, but of course, they had to place the most important questions at the end. 

“Guys, listen okay?” As the ever quick-witted member, San starts beside Jongho. “What’s ‘8 makes one team?’ 8 people make _what?_ ”

Like always, Wooyoung’s the first to catch on. “What are we? We are always… _What are we?_ We always say- us ATEEZ, what are we like?” Jongho can’t see him past the cardboard barricade, but he pictures Wooyoung gesturing wildly with his hands. “We need to have this quality.”

_Have what?_

Damn, this (not) cold is really making his brain crawl. 

Jongho winces when the cardboard barrier taps his head, knocked over by San in his excitement as the two friends concentrate their efforts on Mingi and spout hints one after another. 

“When people say ‘ATEEZ looks really close to each other,’ what do we say? We always say we are _this._ ” 

“Let’s go with a word that is broad.”

“You know what I’m on about, right?”

 _Oh._ It finally clicks inside Jongho, right as Mingi resolutely shouts. Except, when boards turn to reveal their answers, the xylophone dings them to be incorrect. _Huh? Why…_ Jongho frowns as he hovers the marker eraser over his written _‘family’._

“Hey! Song Mingi, come here now!”

“Song Mingi, really?” Wooyoung groans. 

“No- no, I’m right… I’m correct, right?” Mingi hesitantly insists, despite Jongho noticing Newsade staff before him all subtly eyeing Mingi with amused expressions. Wooyoung seems to have also noticed, with his _‘it’s you, Mingi--’_

“No, it’s Jongho-ah.” San suddenly says. 

_Huh?_

“It’s Jongho. It’s him. I’m 100% sure mine is correct.” Mingi adds, in a tone too thrilled for the accusation. 

“Hyung-” Jongho pouts, feeling his head pound from just one word. But he’s not going down without defending himself. “I’ll try giving you an expression. Hyung, I suddenly want to eat pig’s feet to- _day..._ ” Lowering his voice, he hurriedly cuts himself off and swallows the lump in his throat. 

Thankfully, the others quickly take over the conversation and steer it back towards Mingi, prompting San to provide even more blatant hints. “Right, listen. Hongjoong-hyung nags a lot. While he’s like that, Seonghwa-hyung is like the husband-” 

Jongho hums, nodding along. He may have spaced out a bit at the start of the question, but the answer is so obvious at this point. 

Ever since they were trainees, Hongjoong has consistently disciplined them with precise and blunt words, which exponentially increased after their eight-member team became official. He held none of his advice back (though some were very opinionated) and lacked any bias towards anyone. If he thought they could do better, he spoke up. If he cared for them, he followed up to check their progress. Through his awkward shoulder pats and constant watchful gazes across the practice room, Hongjoong has always watched over his team. But when was the last time his leader gave him advice? For some unfathomable reason, he kinda misses being in the worn private practice room (always the same one at the end), with Hongjoong standing cross-armed in the corner, expression focused, and with a bottle of water ready. He’d be there for hours with Jongho, until late into the night, if needed. However, Jongho has become too good of a singer now to need any members accompanying his vocal practices.

Seonghwa is their backbone, to humbly describe their oldest member. Despite his own insecurities, he held his heart open and arms wide for the team. While Hongjoong locked himself up in the office, producing amazing tracks and lyrics, Seonghwa made their shared bedroom available for private counseling sessions for those that needed encouragement or a tight hug or just a pat on the head. Sometimes, he helped translate Hongjoong’s blunt pieces of advice into more...digestible and softer suggestions. However, Jongho never entered the room because he didn’t want to burden Seonghwa with his own problems that neither person could resolve. He valued the eldest too much to use Seonghwa as merely someone to vent his frustrations out on. That didn’t stop Seonghwa from giving nonchalant praises and passing head pats during dance and vocal practices, though. But did he ever thank him for that? Tell him how much those small touches meant to him? Actually, when was the last time he had a private conversation with Seonghwa? Jongho’s no longer a stressed, insecure trainee with an uncertain future. 

But at this moment, he’s kinda craving Seonghwa’s mushroom porridge. Even though they’re usually reserved for those having hard times… And he really doesn’t want to trouble Seonghwa--

“Think clearly- please _think!_ ”

Jongho jerks at San’s blaring plea, grimacing at how unprofessional he just was to actually space out during an ongoing shooting. _Damn it._ He brushes his bangs back, lingering his hand against his forehead. He’s a bit warm. Well, warmer than earlier in the morning. Seems like a single dose of ibuprofen is useless... 

“Mingi--” 

“I got it- it came straight to my head!” Mingi exclaims, forcing Jongho to refocus. 

He can’t be this scatter minded and stupid when he’s got a job to do. Just a couple of questions left, and he can rest. 

Then, finally. _‘Family’_ all came out.

“It was you!” Jongho slams his marker and whiteboard down, turning to scowl at Mingi. This guy is always so different, so confident with his unique mindset that it’s somehow both endearing and frustrating. They could’ve finished this telepathy question in a couple of minutes from how obvious the answer was, but this guy _always_ has to make even simple things interesting regardless of how tired Jongho is and how he wants to end this shooting quickly. This is really too much...Jongho feels a headache budding. 

“What did you write before?” 

“I wrote ‘friends.’” Mingi laughs, answering with a seemingly unapologetic tone. But any member could spot his underlying embarrassment from a mile away through his too-wide smile and him running his hand behind his nape. He’s always had that nervous habit since they were trainees, frequently appearing during his often unprepared evaluations. 

“Are we friends?” Wooyoung asks with narrowed eyes.

“Of course, we are friends!”

Exhaling sharply, Wooyoung elaborates. “We are nothing more to you?” 

That makes Mingi go silent. Biting his lower lip, he slumps into his seat and curls a bit into himself. Frustrating. Just what are they doing this shooting for? It’s certainly not to make anybody disappointed or shame Mingi or make Jongho feel his headache even more. So Jongho slides his hand under the table, reassuringly squeezing Mingi’s thigh. This is just a game. 

Still, Jongho whispers. “We are a family…”

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


Though they’re family, Jongho does _not_ approve of this way to improve teamwork. 

“Jongho really hates kisses on the cheek.” Yunho says to the camera as if it wasn’t so obvious already from his stiff demeanor to him plastering his back on the white set. 

On a normal day, he doesn’t like kisses. But today, he absolutely abhors them. 

“Do you have feelings for us?” Mingi teases, having already recovered his bright mood from their telepathy game. Assisted by Wooyoung, they drag Jongho back to the center with tight grips on both arms. Jongho forces himself to struggle minimally because cameras are unfortunately still rolling. 

“Guys, you are a family, right?” Yunho asks.

“Right, we are a family.” San replaces Wooyoung’s hold on Jongho, freeing him to go in for the kill. 

A loud, wet _smack_ is placed right on Jongho’s right cheek; quickly and effectively gone before Jongho could avoid it. So he screams bloody murder instead, because _ew_ and fuck- had he lingered any longer, Wooyoung might’ve noticed his higher body temperature. He unsuccessfully tries to pull away from an incoming Mingi. Even though he’s the strongest of the team, his older members’ grip strengths somehow exponentially increase during these times, allowing another wet _smack_ to sound. 

_Oh my god-_ he actually wants to punch someone.

But just one look at his members’ expressions, anyone could tell that they (especially Mingi and San) enjoy performing these intense acts of affection. 

Was only he the weird one? 

He grimaces when San thoughtlessly tries to give another kiss to Wooyoung. Everyone (legit, _everyone_ in his team and staff) laughs heartily at the mistake and with intertwined hands and a firm grip on the neck, Wooyoung places a quick peck onto San’s check. 

“Jongho-yah. Jongho-yah, it’s your turn.” Jongho frowns, shrinking back at Wooyoung’s wide smile. His demeanor must’ve looked as pitiful as he felt because he catches the older mirroring his frown for just a moment. But it’s quickly gone as Wooyoung turns back to face the cameras, waving at Jongho with a hastened gesture to get the youngest into the center of the set. “You need to give them each a kiss, and we’re done,” he says, in a distinctly softer tone. It reminds Jongho of the Wooyoung that exists in the comfy practice room--detailed, patient, and ever so quick-witted concerning his members’ conditions. 

In contrast: “Let me get a kiss from our youngest!” San announces cheerfully, tilting his cheek towards Jongho; ready and waiting. But practically forces the kiss when the youngest did not move, by pushing his cheek onto Jongho’s tightened lips. 

“Even though we are family, this is hard to watch…” Yeosang mumbles. Before Jongho could verbally agree, he notices Yeosang on the side giggling behind his hands. Despite his words, he’s totally enjoying this and the show of affection (and probably Jongho’s reaction). What a traitor. 

Pulling away from Mingi before his kiss could make contact, Jongho waves his hand before his face and pretends to have retreated due to a bad scent (that’s never present on Mingi). Thank goodness for his intact sense. It’s still a show, and he needs to make his (sickened) actions appear fun and light-hearted before the cameras for his team. 

Even though all he truly wants at this moment is to flee. And sleep off the rising fever and discomfort. 

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


“Hyung.” 

San and Mingi jerk at the sudden announced presence at their backs; the latter even loses his balance, exclaiming in relief when he manages to catch himself on the sofa’s edge while keeping the filled trash bag in his hand secure. San exhales sharply, smacking Mingi’s back for the dramatic stumble. The fried chicken carcasses, used chopsticks and napkins bounce in San’s own trash bag following their team’s complete devouring of Newsade’s gifted lunch. He turns to Jongho with a scolding ready on his tongue for unreasonably startling them when they had been so focused on their cleanup task, but the words die before they could make a sound. Because Jongho looks uncharacteristically nervous. 

“Geez, what are you doing?” Mingi groans loudly with his back still turned, making San scowl. However, before he could interject, Mingi’s already turning and yelling. “I almost dropped this all over the floor, Jongho-yah!”

“S-Sorry.” 

“What--” Mingi startles, now fully aware of their youngest before them. 

Jongho lowers his head, twiddling with the loose threads on his jean jacket. “Sorry…” He repeats, more hesitantly. “For this and before- during the shooting, I was…”

“Hey?” Softening his tone and dropping his trash bag onto the table, San approaches Jongho. 

In all the years they’ve known each other, very rarely has he ever seen Jongho like this. Their youngest by nature is calm and collected, usually acting as the members’ compassionate listener. However, when he devolves into this nervous child, it may be for a wide array of reasons--from messing up his vocal lessons before the teacher to accidentally damaging one of the members’ personal properties to forgetting a promised favor. Either way, it’s because Jongho firmly believes he has committed some grave offense, regardless if anyone else agrees, including the victim. San has seen him apologize like this for just forgetting to place the leftover dinner into the fridge come morning; and once more for knocking Shiber into a dusty corner, promising to even pay for the dry cleaning out of pocket. San truly admires him for possessing such a responsible trait at his age, which was evident even when they were trainees, but it’s more often than not exaggerated and stressful on Jongho. 

As such, San says, “it’s okay. Whatever you think you did, you don’t have to apologize.” 

“That’s right, Jongho-yah.” Mingi pipes in, obviously of a similar mindset as San. “Did someone tell you something? Well, they’re wrong- I just know it.”

Jongho winces. “ _I did._ I… Also, you don’t smell bad, Mingi-hyung.”

“Huh?” Mingi blinks, confused. “Uh...thanks? You don’t, either?”

San internally sighs, aware that Mingi responded with absolutely no clue of Jongho referencing the finished shooting when he had cleverly used that as an excuse to avoid the kiss. Wait. Is that what this is about? “Jongho-yah.” San steps forward, reaching out his hand to comfort. 

Except, Jongho flinches, stumbling a couple of steps back with eyes wide in alarm and terror. San and Mingi mirror his expression, and before anyone could speak, Jongho rushes out of the waiting room and turns the corner in a blind hurry. A loud _squawk_ sounds as Jongho crashes into someone, knocking shoulders painfully and sending both of them tumbling into opposite walls of the hallway. Jongho coughs and gasps out a _‘sorry’_ before dashing off. 

Wooyoung dumbly stares at Jongho’s retreating backside, cradling his shoulder. 

“Are you alright?” San comes to rest his hand over Wooyoung’s, squeezing lightly in worry.

“I’m fine. What...what just hit me, though?”

“Jongho.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes at Mingi’s obvious answer. “Thanks, genius. Like I couldn’t tell from this pain that I was just rammed by 70 kilograms of pure muscle.” Straightening himself, Wooyoung rolls his neck and shoulder as San’s bony fingers help massage the area. “I wanna know what happened to cause my suffering.”

San shakes his head, unsure as he starts. “I don’t know-”

“San freaked him out.”

“- _hey!_ I did not!” Swiveling on his heel, San promptly threatens to throw his fist at a laughing Mingi. It took San storming back into the waiting room and the closed distance of a mere table between them for Mingi to raise his hands in surrender. “Seriously, right when I’m trying to be serious. Anyways,” San turns back to Wooyoung, “we’re not really sure, but he’s acting like _that_ again.”

“That? You mean like when he accidentally bought us coke during my diet?” 

“Yup.” San sighs, recalling it. “To which he filled up our fridge with bottles of tea in apology.” 

“Damn, don’t remind me.” Wooyoung shakes his head, ashamed. Nearly a year has already passed, but the exhausted bearing of their youngest is still clear in his mind. Because unbeknownst to San and Wooyoung, Jongho had to endure quite a difficult vocal lesson, only to get bombarded by spam messages from both of them right afterward, practically guilt-tripping him into being their personal caterer. In an immature sense, they figured it was well-deserved after their own nonstop two-hour long dance practice. However, despite the multitude of text messages, they failed to be specific in their orders and were teasingly outraged when Jongho (weary and silent to rest his hoarse throat) entered the practice room with carbonated drinks tucked under his arms. “I really made a big deal out of nothing back then.”

“It’s alright,” San quickly reassures, as always.

They had apologized to Jongho after discovering that the alarming stash of green and oolong tea was intended for them, thankfully before he could offer even more refreshments; people would suspect that they were bunkering down for some disaster, except with tea rather than bottled water. It was certainly an eye-opener on one of their youngest's extreme personality traits. Therefore, the entire team has unilaterally agreed to cut off buds of negativity before any could sprout in Jongho’s mind as soon as possible. 

“The problem this time is that Mingi and I have to return to the office for lessons as soon as our manager picks us up.” San rolls his lips, pondering. “There’s no time to talk to him until like late tonight...and I sure don’t want another surprise apology gift when I don’t even know what he’s apologizing for.” 

Mingi nods in agreement, having no absurd minority opinion to voice in this regard. Because while Mingi has never personally experienced the rare depressed Jongho like a few other members, he naturally values Jongho’s health and happiness above all else. 

“I’ll talk to him. And make sure he doesn’t sneak out to buy anything.” Wooyoung promises, smiling as his two friends do the same in relief.

It’s too late to do any effective preening of negativity considering Jongho has run off in a very public place and nearly the entire team are stuck at the Newsade shooting location until their manager returns from his priority dropoff of Hongjoong at Eden’s studio. Luckily, both Wooyoung and Jongho are on rotation for vocal rest and have been withdrawn from today’s regular dance practices. Technically, Hongjoong is also on the schedule for a relaxing downtime, but...well, it’s Hongjoong. Anyway, that means Wooyoung would be able to privately speak to and monitor Jongho in their dorm later.

“Still,” Wooyoung asks, “do you two have any clues?”

“I think it’s about the shooting, specifically about the kissing segment… We probably took it too far with the teasing." San sighs. "Again. Jongho-yah looked really uncomfortable by the end of it, and his cheeks were really warm.” 

Wooyoung nods, recalling their youngest’s demeanor then. He noticed that the instant the cameras shut off and the director announced the end of the shooting, Jongho had rushed off the set a bit too quickly by himself. From Jongho’s backside, Wooyoung found some tenseness in his posture but didn’t think it had to be addressed immediately; in a simple mindset, Jongho could’ve just needed the bathroom. But now that he’s aware of the abrupt apology Jongho had dropped onto San and Mingi, Wooyoung probably should’ve followed Jongho right away. He really needs to get better at reading minds and noticing subtle body language, especially when the subject is their admirably hard-working, selfless, and incredibly stubborn youngest.

Finishing their cleanup and wipedown of the coffee table, San and Mingi leave to deposit the trash with sincere _‘good luck’_ waves and side-hugs. Alone in the waiting room, Wooyoung slumps into the couch and sighs deeply. He peeks at his phone, noting the lack of messages from their manager in their group chat; he must still be on the road. 

(“ _I’ll talk to him_.”) What a thing to promise. 

Wooyoung sighs again, kneading his temples. Getting Jongho to speak privately and personally with him would be easy--a mere beginner’s quest. Because despite his deceptively introverted and quiet image, Jongho actually thrives on and craves social interactions. His personality is similar to Wooyoung in this regard. But getting Jongho to speak about himself? Fucking immortal sage’s quest. Their team’s final boss can skillfully reverse card any conversation and make his counterpart open up instead. Honestly, their eldests would probably have a better success rate, since Jongho admires and naturally respects them a bit more than the (mostly) rambunctious ‘99 liners. However, Seonghwa would stick to his kind principle of waiting and keeping his door open until Jongho approached him, which is literally a once in a blue moon event (if it happens at all). And Hongjoong is never home, anyway.

Seriously, what a thing to promise; still, it’s necessary. As such, Wooyoung pockets his phone and exits the waiting room to search for Jongho in hopes of being able to at least calm him down before they return to the dorm. 

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


After nearly 30 minutes, Wooyoung concludes that Jongho has to be some secret master of hide and seek, even if it’s a one-sided game initiated on Wooyoung’s part. 

He had scavenged through the entire building, checking every unlocked room and pointedly avoiding any that had muffled conversations. After inspecting all three bottom floors open to guests and even getting funny looks from a security guard when he peeked into the upper floors that are exclusive to Newsade staff, Wooyoung is quite drained and pushing past any logical hiding spots. He groans in disappointment when he doesn’t find Jongho’s sneakers (uniquely decaled thanks to their artsy leader) behind this locked bathroom stall too. Quickly righting himself, he washes his hands from contact with the dirty floor before the not-Jongho occupant of the stall exited and could slap a civil suit against him for being creepy. It was already a close call with the last bathroom he intruded upon (damn near gave him a heart attack when the janitor waltzed in without so much as a single knock). Luckily, he could give a lighthearted excuse of searching for his dropped earbuds but of course, felt immediately guilty when the (rather aged) janitor too dropped to the floor, quick to offer assistance. As a solution, Wooyoung had to secretly pull out his earbuds from the safety of his back pocket to toss it into a corner, faking a grand smile when he finally ‘found’ it. He should really consider an acting career. 

But seriously, shouldn’t Jongho reward him for his persistence? At least respond to his direct messages or answer his damn phone. If ATEEZ ever officially plays hide-and-seek or gets cast onto Running Man, Wooyoung is going to fight to have Jongho on this team; he’s not going to let the youngest out of his line of sight anymore.

Exiting the bathroom, Wooyoung fishes his phone out and scrolls through the buzzling group chat, obvious that his members must’ve been bored being stranded here.

 **Short Manager-nim [4:01 PM]  
** ETA 10 minutes. I trust none of you have caused trouble.

 **Mother Park [4:03 PM]  
** I’m with Yunho and Yeosang near the entrance. The others tho…   
I’d just like to apologize beforehand. They disappeared after lunch

 **amicus usque ad aras ⛰ [4:03 PM]  
** geez apologize for wht  
hyung im properly containing Mingi dw

 **Overgrown Baby [4:03 PM]  
** help (ಥ﹏ಥ)  
he just sitting on me and digging his bony ass into me thighs fml

 **Mother Park [4:04 PM]  
** Where are you?

 **amicus usque ad aras ⛰ [4:05 PM]  
** in a family restroom 

**Mother Park [4:05 PM]  
** Why  
Actually, whatever. Just come down to the entrance @everyone

 **Smol and Angry [4:06 PM]  
** As the leader, I command y’all to listen to mother Hwa haha  
I’m muting now. Got work

 **Mother Park [4:07 PM]  
** Come home on time for once, Hongjoong. And before midnight. 

**Smol and Angry [4:08 PM]  
** Muting ;D

Though Jongho didn’t respond personally and could be assumed to be with anyone, Wooyoung figures he saw Seonghwa’s tagged instructions. As such, he locates the nearest staircase to rush down towards the building entrance. 

Then, finally. Wooyoung _finally_ spots the broad back that he’s been seeking for the past hour down the hallway. In his excitement, Wooyoung jumps the rest of the stairs, half-jogs to catch up, and throws his arm around Jongho’s shoulder in greeting. “Hey- _ah!_ ” Of all things he expected in response, he definitely didn’t think a fist would be it. Wooyoung narrowly dodges the swing aimed right for his stomach, managing to right himself before he could tumble once more into a wall. Exhaling in relief and thankful for his body’s exemplary balance, he looks up to find terrified eyes staring back at him. 

“Ah- I--” Jongho stutters, clutching his offending hand to his chest. With his other, he harshly digs his nails into the back of it in some form of immediate self-punishment. “I’m so sorry--”

“It’s okay.” Wooyoung interrupts and hastily puts his hands up as if to soothe a cornered animal. “I’m fine. You’re fine, Jongho-yah. It was me that surprised you.” 

Carefully, Wooyoung reaches his hand out towards Jongho, grimacing when the youngest immediately cowers back. Okay. Okay, like San said, Jongho is acting like _that_ again. Except, perhaps more freaked out and unpredictable compared to any other time. Seriously, what unforgivable sin did Jongho believe he committed? If it’s something stupid like not being able to respond to the kiss or teasing properly during the shooting, Wooyoung is going to have a _long talk_ with him. Because now he’s not even allowing touches? Wooyoung’s clingy personality is not going to be happy about this for however long it’ll take until Jongho calms himself down. 

“Hyung…” Jongho hesitantly starts, still gaping with wide eyes as his hands shake. 

_Jongho doesn’t know what to do_ , Wooyoung realizes. He was the one who had prematurely cut off Jongho’s apology and now the youngest doesn’t know what else to say. Inhaling deeply, Wooyoung focuses on keeping his tone level-headed as he softly smiles. “The van is here. Let’s go.” 

After a moment of Jongho clenching and unclenching his hands (most likely digging his nails in more places), he nods. 

Wooyoung’s smile widens and naturally reaches out to Jongho for a light hug but manages to stop himself within inches of him touching Jongho’s shoulders. Right. No touching. Quickly drawing back and keeping his hands locked by his sides, Wooyoung turns to lead them towards the building entrance. Luckily, Jongho had his head lowered then to pull at the loose threads on his jean jacket’s sleeves to notice. Wooyoung frowns, knowing that the stylists would not appreciate that when they receive the returned jacket but stays silent.

It took only a few minutes for the two to reunite with the other members, but Wooyoung felt it lasted far longer than that; constricting silence simply doesn’t mesh well with his personality. 

He notices their van parked in the dropoff area, with Seonghwa and their manager conversing outside the open side door. Obvious that the rest of the members must’ve entered the vehicle already, Wooyoung exclaims the instant he exits the Newsade’s building. “Hey, shotgun better be free for our Jongho-yah! He didn’t finally win rock-paper-scissors this morning to get it stolen.” He leans into the ajar door, glowering at the still figure in the front seat. When it seems like they wouldn’t move by themselves any time soon, Wooyoung steps in slightly to reach over and smack his member’s shoulder. Startled, their huge noise-canceling headphones bounce over their jacket’s hood. Yeosang peeks over his shoulder with narrowed eyes, making Wooyoung cross his brows and insistently mouth an _‘out’_ to his friend. After a moment of staring and frowning, Yeosang exhales tiredly and exits. Wooyoung follows his movement as Yeosang rounds the van with hands deep in the pockets of his favorite black fleece jacket. Oh, man. His friend looks ready for a nap, just from his drained expression and slumped posture; it’s quite understandable since Yeosang has dance practice later and was quite physically involved in the finished shooting. 

Yeosang turns towards Jongho, pleading and displaying that unfair pout. 

Wooyoung internally groans, thinking that he should’ve never told his friend back when they were trainees that that look was effective; now, he practically wields this weapon at any chance. Jongho is usually as affected by it as the entire team and staff; he has a bleeding heart, after all. And on a normal day, Jongho _would_ willingly give up his seat since he could just rest at the dorm.

Except, Jongho doesn’t even glance at Yeosang, stepping past him to climb into the front seat. 

_Oh, man._ Wooyoung winces at the definitive slam of the front door, observing Jongho’s silhouette sink wearily into the seat through the window. The two friends catch each other’s gaze, with Yeosang appearing quite concerned now and silently asking for details with a pointed finger through sweater paws at Jongho. When Wooyoung only sighs and shakes his head, indicating his own lack of information, Yeosang grimaces and enters the side door of the van. 

“Wooyoung-ah.” Seonghwa approaches from behind, whispering carefully. “I’m on rotation for night practice today. Can you...handle Jongho-yah until I return?” 

Grinning at their ever responsible and kind eldest, Wooyoung says. “You don’t even need to ask, hyung.” 

“I see.” Seonghwa pats his shoulder gratefully. “We should be done by 9 PM. Please handle dinner, as well.” 

“I know, I know. I'm the true dorm mom when you're out.” Wooyoung smirks teasingly. “You just take care of Hongjoong-hyung.”

Seonghwa flushes a bit, mumbling. “I would if he ever left that damn studio.”

Entering the van last, Wooyoung immediately clings onto Yunho in the front row seats, who automatically shifts so that they could slot together more comfortably. Once they were en route to the office, silence fell upon them. Sighing, Wooyoung wraps his arms around Yunho’s, pulling his friend closer so that he could also peer at the phone in their hands. As expected, his fellow main dancer is reviewing the choreography scheduled for tonight’s lessons. Their company has hoped that they’d be able to take control of the overall performance and lead individual members in case none of the dance teachers could accompany them to schedules through their career; though Wooyoung doesn’t believe he’s quite there yet, Yunho has been their cornerstone since they were trainees. 

Wooyoung glowers forward, past the back of the front seat at Jongho. Their youngest is so hunched together that only the crown of his head could be seen. _Damn it._ What is this? Shouldn’t people be more honest with their feelings when they’re having a difficult time? Especially when it involves someone else if only to settle things faster. However, there Jongho is, so withdrawn in his shell where negative thoughts could bounce around endlessly in his mind. Why does he have to spend time alone and inevitably hurt himself, prior to him opening up to others?

Wooyoung couldn’t possibly understand. 

But he’s grown since he was a trainee. Back then, he’d shamelessly voice his bitterness and any controversial opinions without hesitation; gradually he learned over the years together...that people handle grief and frustrations differently. Most of the younger members are on one spectrum, while Yeosang and Jongho are on the opposite end. 

Wooyoung practically has a tactics book mentally written for how to properly and personally console his team, with sections dedicated to each member nearly complete; well, everyone’s except Jongho’s. He has a mere one-liner of _‘he’ll approach you himself so wait patiently.’_ To his own dismay, Wooyoung doesn’t fucking have a single patient bone in his body. Once more, he glowers at the front seat, nearly glaring. Their youngest highly values communication in his relationships, so Wooyoung is at least assured that he’ll eventually speak. If only it didn’t take so long, though. 

Noticing that his leg has started to bounce from anxiety, Wooyoung crosses them tightly and pushes his face right into Yunho’s sturdy chest without warning. His friend releases a startled noise but easily angles his body to accommodate the sudden embrace so that he could still focus on his phone past Wooyoung’s buried head. Yunho must suspect that he’s just being touch-starved since he hasn’t asked whether he was alright, innocently unaware of the turbulent thoughts actually occurring. 

Still, Wooyoung aggressively reminds himself for the rest of the trip: _‘stay patient’_ and _‘don’t pressure Jongho the instant we’re alone in the dorm.’_

_Jongho needs you._

_So stay fucking trustworthy in his eyes._

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


Wooyoung has to give proper credit where it’s due, particularly for himself. In the passing time that he’s spent in his bedroom, he’s practically mastered two mobile RPG games and managed to fill up all of his idol--Park Jimin’s card slots in SuperStar BTS. 

And not once has he gone to corner Jongho.

Groaning, Wooyoung pockets his phone after spending all of his stamina (again). He really doesn’t have the mental fortitude to mimic Seonghwa’s open-door policy. Besides, there hasn’t even been a hint of footsteps outside his room; Jongho must either be locked in his or staying far away from Wooyoung. At least there’s been no indications of the front door opening and Jongho slipping out to purchase an unwarranted apology gift for San and Mingi. Either way, he’s about to drive himself crazy at this rate. Two hours of silence and solitary with his personality are a recipe for trouble. In the back of his mind, he could just hear his mother’s laughter when recounting toddler Wooyoung being left alone for a few hours at their family home with baby powder and toilet paper (which she has never failed to bring up whenever he has friends over). He doesn’t believe he’ll teepee or finger paint powder over the dorm walls of his and Yeosang’s bedroom at this age...but he’s mildly tempted. Because he’s not really scared of Hongjoong’s and their manager’s reprimand (a wet wipe could easily remove it), but _nah_. White powder wouldn’t look good on white walls.

Exhaling sharply, Wooyoung jumps to his feet and exits the room. Just a glimpse of Jongho could at least calm him down. He immediately focuses on Jongho’s and Mingi’s shared bedroom across the hallway, noting the lack of lights seeping through the closed door. Perhaps he’s napping?

Wooyoung startles, then; the clanking sound of dishes and the enticing smell of food capture his senses. Keeping himself hushed, he carefully sneaks through the hallway and drops to a crouch in the living room so that he could peek past the partial walls into the kitchen. Jongho is busily moving inside with his back to Wooyoung, not hiding his sniffles at all in his private surroundings. Like Wooyoung, he’s changed his outfit to comfortable sweatpants and a large t-shirt. The older frowns, wondering how long he had been out here alone. Did Jongho take the initiative and cook dinner for them, even though Seonghwa had assigned that duty to him? That’s not right. “Jongho-yah.” 

Jongho practically springs in his spot, dumping a clean bowl haphazardly into the drying rack. He turns halfway with wide eyes at the direction of Wooyoung’s call, opening his mouth as if to speak but only a harsh cough comes out. Clamping his slippery hands on the edge, he virtually bends 90 degrees to hack into the sink. 

“Hey, Jongho-yah?” Wooyoung rushes to his side, reaching to pat his back but pauses with inches in between. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

"...it's the allergies." Jongho mumbles, averting his eyes. 

“Seems pretty rough this time, huh?” Wooyoung can’t remember Jongho being this ail before. He has allergies himself and had he not known about Jongho’s fungus spore allergies that often pop up during uncommon seasons, he would’ve suspected the youngest is just _sick_. “Have you taken your meds?”

“Not yet. That’s why I ate first…” 

“Without me? Even though I’m the first and bestest fan of our chef Jongho?” Wooyoung playfully sulks, jutting out his chin. He spots the slight tug in the corner of Jongho’s mouth, but he coughs into his arm before a smile could appear. Wooyoung’s hand hovering over Jongho’s back clenches shut, tightening into a fist to restrain himself from patting the youngest through the wheezing but just also from embracing him. _Damn it_ , he’s not well-versed in comforting from a distance or with only his words; he simply can’t formulate deep, meaningful words on the fly so whatever comes of his mouth often sounds superficial in these serious situations. “So...what’d you cook up?” 

“...just some soup with eggs and rice noodles. Nothing special, hyung.”

“It smells so good, though. Got any left?” Sticking close to the wall and avoiding any contact with Jongho in the narrow kitchen, he reaches for the pot...only to have a large hand suddenly sneak under and snatch it away. 

In one swift move, Jongho dumps the remaining soup into the sink. It was probably less than a couple cups of chicken broth but Wooyoung still gapes, stunned by the waste and Jongho even turning on the faucet to rinse it completely down; that could’ve been a tasty ramen. 

_What the hell?_ This entire day...Jongho hasn’t been acting like himself at all. Are his allergies this time so detrimental that it’s clouding his usual resourceful mind? Though he does naturally become more withdrawn with the season (tired due to the constant sniffing and coughing), his behavior and actions today have been far too weird and quite frankly alarming. _What’s going on with you?_ Wooyoung wants to ask--wants to demand that so badly; he wants to push for an answer because it’s glaringly obvious by now that there’s something actually wrong with Jongho--be it mentally or physically. And Wooyoung would be a fool to not realize that and let Jongho continue to spiral without intervention.

( _“San freaked him out._ ”) 

Recalling Mingi’s words, Wooyoung bites the inside of his cheek. “That’s...that’s fine, Jongho-yah. There should be enough rice and leftovers in the fridge for one person.” _Even though having the remaining soup alongside it would’ve been better_ , he thinks begrudgingly. “Have you eaten enough?” Generally, Jongho has quite a massive appetite (probably due to his amassed muscles) and just soup without any carbs or noodles would not be enough. 

Still, Jongho nods.

“That’s...good.” Wooyoung forces out, keeping his words and tone level. “The others should be back in the next hour, so take your meds and rest up now while the dorm is this quiet.” Heading towards the fridge, he squeezes Jongho’s shoulder in passing and-

_Oh._

-shit. Wooyoung’s whole being freezes, struck by his thoughtless actions. What has he just done? His hand goes rigid on Jongho as he waits with bated breath for the youngest to freak out and jerk away. He had restrained himself so well thus far, and he blames Jongho’s currently meek demeanor for the slipup; _he’s only calm because he’s fucking tired_. Seriously, damn his clingy tendencies. 

Except, contrary to all of his expectations and anxiety, the opposite actually happens. Wooyoung could somehow feel the tension under his hand gradually disperse the longer he lingered on Jongho’s shoulder.

“Jongho-yah, what’s wrong?” 

_Shit_. 

Wooyoung winces. That just had to roll out of his loose mouth the instant his concentration stuttered. But honestly? At this point, fuck it. The (accidental) touch has occurred and the (definitive) question was blurted. Wooyoung softly whispers an apology to their members, but he’s done with not knowing. 

Besides, Jongho looks disturbingly drained--button nose and cheeks dyed red--and are those tears lining his eyes? He’s really tempted to drag Jongho to the nearest hospital to get a proper rundown of his condition. But Jongho may actually punch him for that. The entire team understands that their capable youngest absolutely hates bringing attention to himself when he’s weak and lacking. Probably unbeknownst to him, they know that trainee Jongho would secretly cry inside a private practice room (always the same one in an obscure corner) and restrain their concerned questions whenever he’d return to practice or the dorm with puffy eyes. He has admirable responsibility and self-discipline but so much...such immense pride that Wooyoung tends to compare Jongho actually asking for help to yanking a tooth out. Or a final boss' battle in a RPG.

“...I’m fine.” Muttering quietly, Jongho shifts his weight on unstable feet but notably leans into Wooyoung’s resting hand. “I’m fine, hyung.” He repeats with a firmer tone but no one’s being fooled here, and Wooyoung’s dubious expression must’ve made that obvious.

Silence spans for a few moments. 

Then, Jongho surprises him once more. 

“I’m really alright, but…” He starts hesitantly, rolling his lips. Slowly, he steps back until he could lean against the kitchen counter and lowers his head and spreads his arms wide.

Wooyoung’s eyes go wide, instantly picking up on the blatant request in Jongho’s open body language.

“Just. _Please, hyung_.” 

And Wooyoung doesn’t hesitate. He engulfs Jongho in a tight hug, one arm wrapping around the younger’s waist and another across his broad back, fingers digging into the fabric to pull them as close together as possible. They simultaneously drop their heads onto the other’s shoulder, as Jongho shudders from a restrained cough. Considering Wooyoung could feel the bodily tension through just a hand on a shoulder, he could perceive it exponentially more now. Jongho’s muscles are so tensed up that Wooyoung rubbing small circles into his back barely makes a difference, and a meager sway--a slight shuffling of weight--nearly tips Jongho (along with Wooyoung) straight to the ground. 

And is it just him? But the room feels kinda sweltering. 

Still, Wooyoung nuzzles his cheek against Jongho’s neck, not minding the wetness seeping into his shirt. It’s just allergies (supposedly). 

“Hyung...” Jongho sighs against him, voice shaking. “I’m sorry…”

“For what?”

“I don’t like kissing.”

Wooyoung raises his brow, confused why he suddenly dropped that statement. Until San’s words ring in his mind.

( _“I think it’s about the shooting, specifically about the kissing segment… We probably took it too far with the teasing."_ ) 

No.

No way. 

Had San actually been correct on why Jongho was frustratingly acting like _that_ at the Newsade shooting location? Like he was some sin incarnate for not being able to kiss or respond properly to them on camera? 

Wooyoung feels heat rising in his core because _what the hell?_ The entire team already knows Jongho doesn't like kisses and understands that he expresses affection differently; it doesn’t make him cold-hearted or lesser than anybody else; they value him regardless. _They love him as he is._ And _Jongho should know that._ Wooyoung grips Jongho’s shirt hard, grinding his teeth with budding anger. “Jongho-yah, you-” 

“ _Oh_ _._ Hyung-”

“-you fucking apologized to San and Mingi because-”

“-no, no.” Jongho quickly shakes his head and detaches from the embrace slightly, his frown pleading before Wooyoung’s enraged one. It makes the older pause, his heart clenching at the pitiful sight. “No, that’s- it’s not what you’re thinking.”

“Then, what? What made you so upset during the shooting?”

“It...it was kinda because of the kisses. I was embarrassed, but that’s not entirely why.” Jongho’s words come out rushed, desperate in his explanation. They violently remind Wooyoung that Jongho is still so, so young. “Kisses pass so many germs. And I’m...right now, I’m… Now hyungs could also be--”

Wait. _Germs?_

Wooyoung wrenches himself free from Jongho’s smothering hold, pointedly ignoring the distressed whine at the sudden loss ( _damn it-_ such a sound should never come out of Jongho). He plants his hand right over Jongho’s forehead, the forceful contact sounding louder than expected because of all the sweat that had accumulated there. 

Jongho flushes brightly and goes wide eyed, like that of a child caught red-handed in his lie. 

Of course. _This_ was it. The reason why Jongho had been like _that_. 

It had been so fucking obvious. 

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


Jongho makes a resolution to never anger Wooyoung again. Because he had never been more terrified of him than in the past few minutes; caretaker Wooyoung could actually be worse than dance leader Wooyoung. He didn’t think it was possible considering the sizable difference in time and effort they respectively spend in the gym, but Wooyoung had lifted him cleanly off the floor with unbelievable strength, painfully tight around his waist to drag him from the kitchen straight to his shared bedroom. Even as he was dropped unceremoniously onto his own bed and forced under the covers, he could only gape stupidly (and in amazement). 

“Hyung--”

“Don’t speak.” Wooyoung hisses with a glare.

“But--”

“You have a fucking cold. And a damn high fever.” As soon as he strapped a back facemask onto Jongho, the older says a final: "I'm grabbing your allergy meds _and_ meds for a fucking cold." 

Then with crossed arms and a quite scary frown, he closely watches Jongho swallow down a total of four pills, ones specifically able to provide immediate relief and drowsiness. "Good." Wooyoung huffs, grabbing the empty cup from Jongho. "Now go to sleep, baby."

"I'm not a baby." Jongho grumbles as a firm hand pushes on his chest to get him to lay down.

“Someone that’d hide his sickness _and_ avoid us so that we wouldn’t find out _and_ still refuse to go to this hospital at this point- is. A. Baby.”

Well, how could he counter that? 

Flipping over to push his face into the pillow, Jongho groans loudly. _Damn it._ He knows he’s being frustrating, but did Wooyoung have to be so straightforward and unrestrained with his words? He sniffs and curls into himself, trying to make himself smaller under Wooyoung’s unrelenting and intense gaze that’s drilling holes into his back. He _hates_ being sick. Because in addition to troubling his members, having to rely on them for nursing in the dorm (despite their already packed schedule), he just had to anger at least one of them today for stubbornly acting tough. 

“Jongho-yah...” 

“No." He clenches his eyes shut, noticing that Wooyoung’s tone has become significantly softer...more consoling. Jongho suspects that he must look as bad as he felt for the older to suddenly flip attitudes from scolding to pitying. "I'm fine now. Go a-already…” He _hates_ it--hates himself so much. As his head throbs painfully with each pounding heartbeat, the ringing in his ears seems to increase like he’s being submerged further and further in deep, suffocating waters. It doesn’t help that his nose is so stuffed up from allergies as well. He wishes the medicine would work faster against his ailing symptoms or just knock him out. 

“It’s alright.” A hand tenderly rubs his nape. “You’re alright. I’ll take care of it, so you can recover in peace.” 

Jongho sniffs, confused as he turns his head in the pillow. 

The older smiles wide as the hand moves to ruffle his hair, kneading his scalp until Jongho inevitably sighs at the pleasant massage. Wooyoung doesn't say anything more, seemingly content with just providing a comforting touch to Jongho silently. Jongho exhales slowly, finding his body relaxing into his bed. 

Oh. This…a thought passes his mind. He's glad that it was Wooyoung who found out. Because while Wooyoung spoils and treats him preciously, he doesn’t look at or fret over Jongho as if he’s fragile even in this bedridden state. He likes having responsibility and being relied upon (even outside of the practice room), and being a sick Jongho’s caretaker totally fulfills that. 

Sometimes, Seonghwa’s thorough and attentive care could feel burdensome. And Hongjoong simply lacks the delicate words in these situations; he’d probably say: _'What the hell? So even our muscle freak can get sick. What frozen pool did you jump into to get like this?'_ without any bad intentions. Jongho winces just from the very probable scenario. Because he _hadn’t_ done anything extreme; rather, merely doing his boring daily routines has resulted in his current state. As for the rest of the '99 liners…San's reaction to finding out would be fine, but he wouldn't have the self-confidence to care for Jongho himself; he'd most likely substitute himself with Seonghwa within a few hours. The others don't even need to be mentioned. As much of a nightmare they are when sick themselves, they're disasters as caretakers.

“Jongho-yah, do you--” Wooyung jerks at the same time as Jongho, both tuning into the subtle voices and footsteps outside of the bedroom. 

The others have returned. 

And at this moment, Jongho literally feels like he can’t move. _Damn it_. He coughs, unconsciously pulling the covers over himself more to hide. 

A gentle hand pats his head, and Jongho looks up to find Wooyoung winking at him. Before he could say anything, the older exits the bedroom with a mischievous smirk. That…was not a face before any calm, pleasant event.

“Hey, welcome back. Stay right there for a bit.” Wooyoung greets, loud and clear. And is that a cheerful bounce in his voice? 

“Wooyoung-ah? What’s that in your hand- _argh!_ ” San screeches, followed by Mingi’s startled: _“What are you doing--”_

“I said stay still!”

“The disinfectant spray is not a weapon!”

“I’m doing it for all your sakes! Be glad I wiped down the kitchen before you came back. And Mingi, don’t go back to your room. You’ll be rooming with Yeosangie tonight and probably tomorrow until- well, until I say so.”

“Wooyoung, damn it. Explain what’s going on--”

“It’s Jongho-yah, guys. Get with the program already.”

“Wooyoung.” Seonghwa says then, voice blaringly stern and authoritative. An anxious moment passes before Jongho hears the two right outside the door. “...how bad is he?”

“Not as bad as you’re thinking." Wooyoung calmly responds. "He’s just sniffing and coughing a bit more because of his allergies. But his fever isn’t even that high.”

Jongho couldn't help but chuckle at Wooyoung downplaying his condition when he had been the complete opposite before the patient.

“Still...should we tell the manager? A hospital visit might--”

 _No._ Jongho flinches, all humor being immediately replaced by dread. _Oh god, no. Please don’t embarrass me anymore._ He coughs harshly into the facemask.

“That’s not necessary. I can take care of him here. We have enough meds stocked up in the dorm, anyways.”

There's quite a long moment of silence--of Seonghwa most likely contemplating Wooyoung's proposition. Jongho clenches his eyes shut, praying that Seonghwa would accept. Otherwise, he suspects that their manager would actually drag him to the hospital to get strapped to an IV drip. Sink him then. He absolutely doesn’t need or want that. 

After what felt like an eternity, a soft scoff is heard. “Are you just trying to skip practice tomorrow?”

Wooyoung makes a scandalized noise, followed by a resounding smack and Seonghwa's hiss (though it sounded equally playful). “No, hyung. Because between us, I’m probably already infected. Why do you think I’m taking over Mingi’s bed?” A small pause, with Wooyoung’s tone turning resolute. “Trust me, hyung. I’ve taken care of my younger brother plenty of times when he was sick. Jongho’s similar to that little brat...well, just a tiny bit more stubborn but still manageable.”

“If you say so... just constantly keep us up to date on his condition.” 

“Of course, hyung!” 

_Thank goodness_. Jongho exhales shakily, having not realized he had been holding his breath. 

The door to his shared bedroom opens to a Wooyoung equipped with his own facemask and his personal fleece blanket in his arms. 

“...hyung.”

“I’m here. You might’ve overheard already, but I’m taking over this place.” He throws the blanket over Mingi’s bed and turns towards Jongho with a bright smile that’s evident even with half of his face hidden. “Just focus on getting better, Jongho-yah. I’ll be quiet.” 

He _trusts_ Wooyoung would; there hadn’t been a single doubt in his mind that his rest would get disrupted by their resident happy virus at all. Because despite his rambunctious public image, he genuinely understands when to be quiet--when his precious members don't need his infectious, piercing energy. And Jongho knows from the overheard conversation with the team that he won’t be crowded or disturbed through the entire recovery period (if Wooyoung has his way). _Seriously, thank goodness_. “Hyung.”

“What is it?” The hand returns to Jongho’s hair, combing through it with soothing fingers. "What do you need?"

Need? Jongho has gotten everything he _needed_ from the familiar bed, effective medicine (as evident by his sinking eyelids and near immobile limbs), and a caretaker that's doubling as a bodyguard. It makes Jongho feel like a treasured celebrity. He laughs softly, smiling at Wooyoung who instantly mirrors it. Somehow, his symptoms seem to lessen from Wooyoung’s nearby presence or at least become far more bearable. It allows Jongho to notice another trait that he greatly appreciates the older for: that he'd never push Jongho to do anything. He won’t ever force a solution onto Jongho’s problem, even personal ones (that his team has dubbed) turn him into _that_ Jongho. If he doesn’t want to be touched, Wooyoung would strictly avoid it even if he went against his clingy nature. If Jongho doesn’t want to be exposed and swarmed by his concerned members, Wooyoung would happily act as his shield. With no need for artfully crafted words, Wooyoung easily shows how he cares with sometimes awkward but always clear actions. And he’s so thankful because Wooyoung provides him with everything he _needs_ and even things he _wants_.

“Hyung, I’m tired...” Slowly, Jongho reaches his hand out of the covers, hesitantly grabbing the ends of Wooyoung’s shirt. With the fabric held delicately between his forefinger and thumb, it'd be so easy for Wooyoung to just step back and slip out. “Can you...please stay?”

Wooyoung blinks, surprised at the request for a moment but melts into a loving smile at the blush spreading across Jongho's cheeks. That dear shade of red isn't just from the fever or allergies. “Of course. Scoot over.” 

With a bit of maneuvering, Wooyoung slips his left arm beneath Jongho's head, bodies under the warm covers turned to face each other. Jongho frowns, wondering briefly if he should take back his childish request because such close proximity to a sick person couldn’t possibly end well (even with both of them having facemasks on) and with how heated he is, it must not be comfortable to lay beside a muscled radiator in the middle of summer. But Wooyoung quickly wraps his arm around his shoulder, right hand returning to comb through his hair and wipe some of the accumulated sweat off his temple. There’s no need for words. Jongho sighs in relief knowing that Wooyoung is fine with this...that he probably enjoys it from his fond smiling eyes. That’s when the fatigue finally catches up to him, and with his cheek pressed against the older’s steady heartbeat, Jongho peacefully slips away. 

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


Once Jongho’s breathing has settled to a calm rhythm and he doesn’t stir even when Wooyoung caresses his nape, the older places a light kiss onto Jongho’s crown. 

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


“What are you idiots looking so intense for?”

“Hyung.” Jongho sniffs, wryly smiling at Seonghwa entering the dorm's temporary 'sickbay.' Though, the tray he carries with two steaming bowls of his renowned mushroom porridge instantly makes his smile more genuine. "We're only checking our temperatures."

"Uh-huh. Doing just that shouldn't cause Wooyoung to have that kinda expression." He places the tray down, glowering at Wooyoung who's sitting stiffly on Mingi's bed with a glass thermostat practically clenched shut between his teeth.

And after a moment, Seonghwa’s bad feelings ring true as Wooyoung screeches at the thermostat now in his hand. “Damn it! 38.1 degrees!”

“Yes!” Jongho claps enthusiastically from across the room. “I had 38.6- that’s five whole spoonfuls to me, hyung!” He turns to Seonghwa, large eyes shining so bright like stars.

“This is just the first day.” Wooyoung grumbles pettily. “I’ll get worse, and then it’ll be me--”

“No one’s getting worse, _you idiots_.” Seonghwa hisses but still redistributes the amount in his younger members’ bowls according to their stupid bet. “Here, just please eat quietly while maintaining this two meter distance.” He hands the more plentiful bowl to Jongho while giving the other to Wooyoung with narrowed eyes. “Don’t hug each other. Don’t _kiss_ each other.” Pushing Mingi’s bed closer to the wall with his knees (along with Wooyoung as an added weight), he growls. “Rather, don’t even touch each other, or else I’ll have to put a makeshift screen with our hanging racks in here.” Seonghwa might fall sick himself with stress at this rate.

Regardless, Wooyoung grins mischievously. “No promises, hyung. After all, it had been _Jongho_ that came to me for hugs when he was sick. Now, look at me. I’m not the one you should be scolding at all- _ah_.” A violent cough interrupts his tirade, nearly spilling his porridge had it not been Seonghwa’s quick hands.

“That’s it. This is the last time I’m giving you hugs, Wooyoung-hyung.” Jongho laughs heartily when Wooyoung throws a pillow at him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, comments are much appreciated. Please check out the other works in this collection, as some of my dear friends also participated and are amazing writers.


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